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lawrenceevalyn's review
2.0
The mystery itself was compelling and compellingly presented, but I can't get over my disappointment with the characters. I'm so disappointed that the three central women were not, as they introduced themselves, a lesbian triad. It made it feel like the whole book actually endorsed the homophobic attitudes that the women spent so much time fighting against at the beginning. Instead, the chief "romance" of the book was a witty feminist who was inexplicably seduced by a violent, drunken, miserable man who becomes marginally less violent, drunk, and miserable thanks to her nurturing influence. He choked her! And forcibly kissed her!! Due to his overpowering lust!!! WHAT is meant to be the appeal there??
The novel itself waffled strangely between a wryly feminist understanding of the world as it is (which I can certainly appreciate) and a discordantly misogynist dismissal of several individual women as vapid walking stereotypes. It made our central triad seem complex and interesting not because they, like all women, are human, but because they are "not like other girls".
I think mainly I've learned that books from the 90s haven't aged enough for me to be ready to read them: the gushing description of wall-to-wall white carpet I can accept as reflecting the times, but the characters' worldview is both too alien and too familiar to be anything but distracting. I have better luck with the eighteenth century.
The novel itself waffled strangely between a wryly feminist understanding of the world as it is (which I can certainly appreciate) and a discordantly misogynist dismissal of several individual women as vapid walking stereotypes. It made our central triad seem complex and interesting not because they, like all women, are human, but because they are "not like other girls".
I think mainly I've learned that books from the 90s haven't aged enough for me to be ready to read them: the gushing description of wall-to-wall white carpet I can accept as reflecting the times, but the characters' worldview is both too alien and too familiar to be anything but distracting. I have better luck with the eighteenth century.
teachertroitsky's review
4.0
Walter's zinger of a debut deftly dissects the lives of three reclusive English women who become the subject of censure and speculation during a murder investigation. After a rotting corpse is found in the ice house of Streech Grange, Chief Inspector Walsh sets out at once to prove it is the body of David Maybury, whom wife Phoebe was suspected of murdering when he was reported missing years earlier. Since no body was ever found, Walsh deduces that Maybury returned and was killed by Phoebe or one of her friends, Anne and Diane, who live with her at the Grange. Detective Sgt. Alan McLoughlin, however, isn't so sure, especially after the coroner says the dead man was older than David and the local belief that the three women are a lesbian menage a trois turns out to be untrue. But McLoughlin can't understand why the Grange's residents make the investigation so difficult by refusing to answer questions and sometimes openly lying. Walters skillfully brings together the relationships between the women and the policemen into a complicated but believable puzzle, which she solves with panache.
celiaedf12's review
3.0
This was Minette Walters' first book - a mystery about an abusive man, long missing, his wife, who was suspected of his murder, and her two friends who live in her house, ostracised by the local village. It was an enjoyable mystery, but I think her books improve as she goes along.
annetteb's review
2.0
This was Minette Walters first book. It was not up to the standards of her subsequent books and was only ok. I think she gained skill as she kept writing and this book is a great argument for why publishers should help develop fledgling writers.
penny_literaryhoarders's review
4.0
"Read" this as an audio book....great ending! Loved to hear the whoreallydunnit at the end, and how things came to a close. Liked it quite a bit as soon as I got used to the woman narrator doing a not-so-great job of some of the "gruff" men voices. As soon as I got over that the story went along very nicely. I think I may "read" more this way! Saved me the trouble of finding a song on the radio that I hadn't heard 4,000 times already.
tachyondecay's review
3.0
For most of the past week, I ploughed through a W. Somerset Maugham collection with that signature pleasure one has in reading one short story after another. Maugham’s stories can wear thin after a while, however, owing to their formulaic structure. So I took a break for something completely different: The Ice House is a crime novel, but Minette Walters plays with a lot of crime conventions. It’s not entirely clear if a crime has been committed or who the victim is, let alone who the murderer might be.
I only had a vague conception of what an “ice house” actually is. Being Canadian, the first thing that comes to mind are those hut-like structures one erects atop a frozen lake when ice-fishing. That’s not what this is. It’s actually this, which makes much more sense. Not only are such buildings good for keeping ice cold, but they are also nice places to store bodies. The only thing that surprises me is that this doesn’t happen more often!
Walters creates and sustains interest beyond the initial, intriguing selection of the setting. Firstly, there is the question of whether Phoebe actually killed her husband, David, all those years ago. Secondly, there is the related question about the identity of the discovered body and whether its death was accidental or intentional. Finally, the relationships between Phoebe and her friends and the village around Streech Grange result in a tense atmosphere not at all aided by the dynamic among the women of Streech Grange and the police officers assigned to the case.
For most of the novel, Walters very carefully avoids providing any hard evidence either way regarding whether Phoebe killed David. She dances deftly around the issue, dangling tantalizing scenes before the reader that seem to imply Phoebe’s guilt, then in the next chapter revealing evidence that seems to preclude her involvement at all. As the situation surrounding David’s disappearance becomes clearer, so too does our understanding of Phoebe’s character and whether she had the motive, opportunity, and willingness to kill her husband. Watching this develop proves a very interesting experience.
Similarly, Walters keeps the identity of the body a mystery for as long as possible. It is too recent to be David—unless he disappeared, only to resurface and die in the ice house for some reason. Indeed, I wasn’t that impressed by the resolution to this mystery. It makes a neat sort of sense—the kind of neatness that only really shows up in the twee world of the crime novel, where coincidence is the only thing more common than murder. Regardless, this mystery is even more important because of what it means for the police who are involved. DCI Walsh is in charge of the case, as he was in charge of the first investigation at Streech Grange. His experience ten years ago now colours his expectations of these events, and it soon becomes clear that he is emotionally invested in showing that the body is David’s.
The other half of the “dynamic duo” is Sergeant Andy McLoughlin. At the beginning of the book, Walsh is the reasonable, understanding “good cop” and McLoughlin is the rough, straight-to-the-point “bad cop”. Walsh displays a tolerant attitude towards the apparent lesbian relationship among Phoebe, Diana, and Anne; McLoughlin wastes no opportunity to single it out as strange. Gradually, the roles of these two policemen in the eyes of the reader reverse. McLoughlin seems to mellow (though there remains a staunch misogynistic streak in keeping with his overall character) as his attraction to Anne grows and he becomes more committed to finding the truth. Meanwhile, Walsh seems to become more and more obsessed with proving Phoebe guilty of murder, to the point where he almost crosses the line of tampering with the investigation. These two men start as colleagues but soon stop seeing eye-to-eye as each one’s biases take their focuses on the investigation in different directions.
For such a slim volume, then, The Ice House has a lot going on. There is far more beneath the surface here than might seem at first glance, and that is the true talent that Walters displays. I don’t often read straight-up crime novels (if they have a supernatural or science-fiction element, then I’m there). That’s just a matter of preference on my part, rather than an issue with the genre as a whole. So as a relative outsider to the genre, take my enthusiasm with a grain of salt—but also take it as a recommendation that this is a story even a dilettante can enjoy.
The Ice House was published in 1992. It’s practically pre-Web, pre–mobile phone. We’ve moved on from then; missing persons cases (and murder investigations) have changed. So in this way, the book is a relic of a now-lost time, just like all contemporary crime thrillers through the ages. If it were published today, it would be in a different climate, one influenced by the nascent surveillance society wracked with scandals and the discontent of a generation that cannot go quietly into the good night. For all its differences from the present atmosphere, though, it holds up remarkably well. With tragedy and romance as well as crime, its strength of characters and simple set of interconnected mysteries make The Ice House an enduring novel with more complexity than meets the eye.
I only had a vague conception of what an “ice house” actually is. Being Canadian, the first thing that comes to mind are those hut-like structures one erects atop a frozen lake when ice-fishing. That’s not what this is. It’s actually this, which makes much more sense. Not only are such buildings good for keeping ice cold, but they are also nice places to store bodies. The only thing that surprises me is that this doesn’t happen more often!
Walters creates and sustains interest beyond the initial, intriguing selection of the setting. Firstly, there is the question of whether Phoebe actually killed her husband, David, all those years ago. Secondly, there is the related question about the identity of the discovered body and whether its death was accidental or intentional. Finally, the relationships between Phoebe and her friends and the village around Streech Grange result in a tense atmosphere not at all aided by the dynamic among the women of Streech Grange and the police officers assigned to the case.
For most of the novel, Walters very carefully avoids providing any hard evidence either way regarding whether Phoebe killed David. She dances deftly around the issue, dangling tantalizing scenes before the reader that seem to imply Phoebe’s guilt, then in the next chapter revealing evidence that seems to preclude her involvement at all. As the situation surrounding David’s disappearance becomes clearer, so too does our understanding of Phoebe’s character and whether she had the motive, opportunity, and willingness to kill her husband. Watching this develop proves a very interesting experience.
Similarly, Walters keeps the identity of the body a mystery for as long as possible. It is too recent to be David—unless he disappeared, only to resurface and die in the ice house for some reason. Indeed, I wasn’t that impressed by the resolution to this mystery. It makes a neat sort of sense—the kind of neatness that only really shows up in the twee world of the crime novel, where coincidence is the only thing more common than murder. Regardless, this mystery is even more important because of what it means for the police who are involved. DCI Walsh is in charge of the case, as he was in charge of the first investigation at Streech Grange. His experience ten years ago now colours his expectations of these events, and it soon becomes clear that he is emotionally invested in showing that the body is David’s.
The other half of the “dynamic duo” is Sergeant Andy McLoughlin. At the beginning of the book, Walsh is the reasonable, understanding “good cop” and McLoughlin is the rough, straight-to-the-point “bad cop”. Walsh displays a tolerant attitude towards the apparent lesbian relationship among Phoebe, Diana, and Anne; McLoughlin wastes no opportunity to single it out as strange. Gradually, the roles of these two policemen in the eyes of the reader reverse. McLoughlin seems to mellow (though there remains a staunch misogynistic streak in keeping with his overall character) as his attraction to Anne grows and he becomes more committed to finding the truth. Meanwhile, Walsh seems to become more and more obsessed with proving Phoebe guilty of murder, to the point where he almost crosses the line of tampering with the investigation. These two men start as colleagues but soon stop seeing eye-to-eye as each one’s biases take their focuses on the investigation in different directions.
For such a slim volume, then, The Ice House has a lot going on. There is far more beneath the surface here than might seem at first glance, and that is the true talent that Walters displays. I don’t often read straight-up crime novels (if they have a supernatural or science-fiction element, then I’m there). That’s just a matter of preference on my part, rather than an issue with the genre as a whole. So as a relative outsider to the genre, take my enthusiasm with a grain of salt—but also take it as a recommendation that this is a story even a dilettante can enjoy.
The Ice House was published in 1992. It’s practically pre-Web, pre–mobile phone. We’ve moved on from then; missing persons cases (and murder investigations) have changed. So in this way, the book is a relic of a now-lost time, just like all contemporary crime thrillers through the ages. If it were published today, it would be in a different climate, one influenced by the nascent surveillance society wracked with scandals and the discontent of a generation that cannot go quietly into the good night. For all its differences from the present atmosphere, though, it holds up remarkably well. With tragedy and romance as well as crime, its strength of characters and simple set of interconnected mysteries make The Ice House an enduring novel with more complexity than meets the eye.
jessicaesquire's review
4.0
I was complaining on Twitter that I don't have enough mystery series to follow or mystery authors who are consistently putting out great books. Minette Walters was someone I'd never heard of before, but she was recommended by author Stephanie Gayle and I'm hugely grateful for it. I feel like Walters and I will have a long and happy relationship.
With The Ice House Walters manages to update the old-school Christie-style manor-house mystery with modern characters and settings. (Regular references to lesbianism, alcoholism, birth control, etc. help remind you that you're not in one of those old 30's novels, but it's easy to forget with Walters' breezy yet classic style.) It's a fairly complex plot that starts off appearing quite simple, another Christie hallmark. Everything does get shaken out in the end, and the answers are both unexpected and totally logical.
I will definitely be reading much more Walters, hopefully my library has her entire repertoire. How did I go this long without knowing about her??
With The Ice House Walters manages to update the old-school Christie-style manor-house mystery with modern characters and settings. (Regular references to lesbianism, alcoholism, birth control, etc. help remind you that you're not in one of those old 30's novels, but it's easy to forget with Walters' breezy yet classic style.) It's a fairly complex plot that starts off appearing quite simple, another Christie hallmark. Everything does get shaken out in the end, and the answers are both unexpected and totally logical.
I will definitely be reading much more Walters, hopefully my library has her entire repertoire. How did I go this long without knowing about her??
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